The First Drink is the Worst
by EraseAlpha
Summary: "The first drink is the worst." Says Roxy, handing you a cup full of god-knows-what. Your eyes dart from her face to the cup and back again and a protest dies in your throat. You take the cup, flimsy red paper and something that could pass for simple orange juice, but you know it's not.


"The first drink is the worst." Says Roxy, handing you a cup full of god-knows-what. Your eyes dart from her face to the cup and back again and a protest dies in your throat. You take the cup, flimsy red paper and something that could pass for simple orange juice, but you know it's not. You raise it to your lips and glance at Roxy and she smiles reassuringly, like only she can. If you didn't know better, you'd think Roxy was perhaps a mother figure but she's far from it.

You sip it and Roxy giggles as your face contorts into an expression of pure disgust. It tastes faintly of orange, but mostly of vodka and something you're not quite sure of.

"Just chug it, it'll be easy." Mutters Roxy, and you do as she says.

It's vile and burns as it slides down your throat, like orange-scented fire.

You choke at the end and it spurts out of your nose, running down your lips and onto your shirt, Roxy is laughing like it's the funniest thing she's ever seen.

You need to lie down, your throat is raw and your head is pounding but Roxy tugs on your wrist and hands you another cup.

"I don't know if I should." You say, and Roxy is laughing again. You're not sure how many cups of the orange beverage she's had, but she was here before you.

You remember there is a party going on upstairs and the music you'd so easily ignored is now slamming inside your ears. There's no one else but you and Roxy in this corner of the basement, but you can see shadows and flashes of color in the curtains that limit the spot.

The pressure in your head lightens. You take the cup and drink.

Roxy was right; the first drink is the worst. You don't choke.

You're glad no one is asking you how you feel because you couldn't begin to describe it.

Roxy's words float in the air:

"Janey, want another?"

You giggle and lean back against the arm of the tatty couch, crossing your legs.

"Yes, please!"

Roxy's airy laughter hits your skin, slick and wet. You laugh too. Everything is very funny.

"My, Roxy, what is in this delightful drink!"

"Everything!"

You both fall over laughing.

The couch is hot and sounds like a spring morning.

You lay your head on Roxy's lap and she pours the drink into your mouth.

You jump back up and start playing with Roxy's piercings. She giggles.

"Oh my god, I had the greatest idea, I should pierce you!"

You shriek and smack her shoulders with your palms, giggling.

"Do it, do it."

Roxy gets up and skips out the little corner and you're left alone. You spread yourself in the couch, playing with the ratty carpet and laughing at yourself.

The ceiling looks like butter and you could swear it was melting.

Roxy came back with what looked like a syringe and a bottle of alcohol.

"Okay, now stand still!"

"Ow!"

"I'm just sterilizing your ear, you wuss!"

"It's cold and drippy!"

"Okay, I'm going to pierce it now. Be REALLY still."

"Right. OW, FIDDLESTICKS!"

"Fiddlesticks, Jane?"

"Oww."

"It's done. Make sure you clean it you wimp or I'm gonna be on your ass about it."

She hands you another cup and you drink it in one sitting.

Maybe seconds or hours or years later you're sitting on her lap, scrapping your teeth against her neck and she tastes like candy and music and the patterns on her skin are water flowing into your mouth.

Your cellphone vibrates between you and Roxy reaches for it, reads the name and throws into the corner.

"Your brother."

You find her laid back attitude very amusing and you're breaking out in giggles again, Roxy's throat vibrating against your mouth as she growls.

She nips at your ear and you're still laughing. Tears are streaming down your face and Roxy is grabbing your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes and her mouth does that funny thing it does when she's upset, but why would she be upset, everything is water and hot and music and oh so funny and there's this great pressure on your chest and you're staring at the ceiling, unable to breathe and you can hear Roxy yelling and everything is black.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a dry throat. Your attempts to cough leave you gasping for air. A cup appears in your peripheral vision and Roxy's voice rings in your ears.

"Don't worry, it's just water, I promise."

You try to get up but your head is smashing and your ear is burning. Roxy helps you sit up a little so you can drink. She hands you the cup.

"Don't drink it all at once, you'll throw up."

You sip the water and recognize the place you're in as Porrim Maryam's living room. You can't remember where you were last night but you remember a strong taste of oranges. Your hand shots up to the top part of your left ear and you hiss.

"My dad is going to kill me." You croak. Roxy laughs dryly.

"At least it looks pretty cool."

You continue to sip the water as slowly as possible. Roxy sighs loudly.

"I'm so sorry."

"About what." You ask. You cough a bit. Your throat still feels like it's full of rocks and nails.

"For giving you drug laced booze."

She's looking at the floor now, pulling a loose thread on Maryam's new couch. You shake your head and attempt to smile but your mouth feels weird so you give up.

"Roxy-"

"I didn't want to bring you into this life, I-"

"That's right, _you _didn't." you say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and immediately regretting it "I was the one who wanted to party with you. And you know. I don't really regret it."

Roxy still looks uncomfortable but at least she's looking at you now.

"And perhaps I'd like to do it again in the future."

Roxy's eyebrows shot up and you stifle a laugh.

"The distant future, if you may." you say, continuing to sip your water.

Roxy smiles weakly and touches your shoulder with her forehead. You kiss her hair and smile. You'd feel safe doing anything as long as she was around.


End file.
